Chapter 225

Episode 225

They say that even with effort, talent is required.

Hippolyte’s training method is centered heavily around practical combat.

“You’ll learn to sense where your opponent is aiming by directly taking hits.”

Roughly put, she would deliver powerful strikes aimed at my chest, abdomen, and even my face.

Of course, I didn’t think she harbored any ill intentions toward me. Still, being on the receiving end of these one-sided beatings, I couldn’t help but occasionally grow frustrated.

“My younger sister would probably be faster than you, Samaritan. Ah, though that’s obviously expected.”

“Nnnggh…”

“Your strength and stamina are impressive, but you’re too sluggish. Therefore, you have to narrowly avoid hits at the last second. This is your optimal strategy. And there’s no other way to learn this other than through direct experience.”

It felt like wandering from inn to inn, constantly witnessing the preparation of sausages where meat is beaten with a meat mallet. In this context, I was the meat.

I was thoroughly battered all over, turning my body bright blue and purple with bruises. Thanks to this, Luna would repeatedly express her anger, looking at me every night, groaning in pain, “Hippolyte, that mean girl! To hit someone like this!”

“Hassan, aren’t you overdoing the training? What if he dies?”

“Surely he won’t d*e. The human body is stronger than you think.”

As time went on, about two to three weeks after the training commenced, I started to get increasingly restless as the registration period at Hippolyte’s academy drew near.

We had agreed to learn about Aura, but as of yet, I saw no trace of it. All I could manage was to focus on dodging Hippolyte’s attacks daily.

Still, out of five punches, I managed to avoid roughly two, which was progress. But now, the challenge had shifted to dodging Hippolyte’s wooden stick attacks.

“Imagine this stick as a blade. If the red paint marked on its tip touches you, you’re dead. The strongest swordsmen in this world can k*ll with just a mere twig like this.”

Similar to how John Wick could k*ll with a pencil, it appears that the strongest individuals here could potentially k*ll with a flimsy stick.

Swish, Crack!

“You’re dead! Samaritan, Hassan, Hassan-? Oh dear, Hassan, are you alright?”

—

Hippolyte seems to be teaching you the Spartan way.

“Yes?”

A rigid practical combat training where those who fall behind are simply left behind. That’s exactly how the Spartans trained. At least, they did in my time.

I remembered the Spartans while sitting by the campfire with the Skeleton Knight. They were a nation made up of strong warriors regardless of gender, weren’t they?

Commonly referred to alongside Amazons and Samaritans as some of the toughest warriors, they were indeed tough and ruthless.

So this brutal training method is the Spartan way?

Survival of the fittest. Only the strong survive. There’s truly no better way to sharpen oneself. Only the strong will survive, and those who survive shall grow strong.

I could feel the Skeleton Knight’s blue gaze staring at me. He was probably looking at my swollen eyes.

Of course, that’s if you can handle it in the first place.

“Does enduring this really make me stronger?”

I asked, feeling my numb face and the throbbing pain beneath my chestplate.

Day by day, it feels like I’m just somehow enduring. I don’t really feel any improvement or growth, but on reflection, learning boxing or jujitsu for a month on Earth isn’t going to get you very far either. It is, after all, a gradual and steady progression.

There’s no sudden leap of improvement, making it frustrating.

Still, despite my concerns, my proficiency in necromancy grew quite rapidly.

When watching the bone goblins made from crude bones repair the Skeleton Knight’s house, I wondered if perhaps putting more effort into enhancing my necromancy might have been a better choice than enduring all this training.

However, the Skeleton Knight seemed to dislike me using necromancy, saying things like,

“Taking the easy path is heresy. To compare it to a mage’s perspective, it’s akin to dark magic. What’s easily gained will betray you just as easily. Ultimately, it’ll only lead to your downfall.”

The Skeleton Knight, despite being nothing but bones, was quite picky.

While Hippolyte’s training feels like a rigorous physical education program focused on actual combat, this Skeleton Knight’s teachings lean more towards theory and mental discipline.

“In the end, what you will rely on in your final moments is your experience and your body. Hippolyte understands this and aims to build your foundations.”

“Yes.”

“You seem restless, but it’s not all bad. You are learning well. In a few years, there won’t be any ruffians on the streets who can match you.”

A few years?

It’s a long period, but his reassurance that I’m learning well gave me a bit of comfort.

By the way, tell me more about this Karma system I keep hearing about. They say that strength in this world is quantified by numbers, right?

“Yes, it’s measured by strength, agility, stamina, among other numbers. When you add them all up, it converts to an overall level, which serves as the basis for tier advancement.”

Ha, quantifying physical prowess is laughable. Experience and skills can’t be reduced to numbers. This trend of trying to measure everything in numbers has only led to more people fixating on them, becoming overly anxious about improving their stats.

Don’t put too much faith in levels.

The Skeleton Knight repeated what other seasoned adventurers had also said.

For someone like Hippolyte or this man, who’ve reached a certain level of mastery, is the level just a number?

Though I possess the unique ability to raise my task stats, thus leveling up, I somewhat agree with their words but at the same time feel a little rebellious.

Would these people still hold the same disdain for numbers if they ever reached a level so high that others couldn’t even utter it?

I pictured myself at Level 30, no, 40, no, 50.

Level 50.

Would the ground shake with every step of the Level 50 Hassan?

I suddenly wondered just how high this level system could go. Using modern terms, I wondered what the “max level” was.

Would it increase endlessly?

Level 99 Hassan.

Max strength, agility, stamina all at 33.

Wow, d*mn, sounds kind of scary…

While imagining myself growing so large I could demolish buildings and sh**t beams from my mouth, I noticed a text floating before my eyes.

By now, it was something I’d become familiar with.

The announcement that minions’ combat results had been tallied, granting me task points.

Bone Wyverns and Agumons were busy wreaking havoc in the ecosystem of this abyssal valley, bringing my current task points to 210.

If I leveled up using Luna’s totem, I could definitely reach at least level 26.

Awwuuuuu-!

Just as I was caught up in happy thoughts, a rather horrific roar came from below. Something let out a huge cry from the pitch-black darkness at the bottom of this cliff.

I had no idea what could make such a loud howl, nor did I really want to imagine it.

It might be the massive Manticore or even Elpride’s party down there.

According to the Skeleton Knight, adventurers exploring the abyss usually start losing their sanity around the third day. If they don’t escape by today, those girls will truly taste what living hell feels like.

Starting around the third day, all kinds of difficulties begin to set in.

Walking through the deep darkness can make time and spatial awareness hazy. The abyssal toxins are also quite powerful—hell mana. Without resistance, one’s mind can quickly give way.

The hell mana, as I understood, was the mana emanating from the twisted rifts that bridge the underworld and the surface. It’s quite potent but can be dangerously corrosive to the user.

That’s when I thought of Paranoi.

Paranoi, a nymph corrupted by hell mana.

It was quite pitiful imagining if the silver-rose member of Elpride’s party might someday become like Paranoi.

Listen closely, necromancer. With prolonged use of necromancy, you risk hell mana contamination, which can affect your personality.

“Really…?”

Personality issues?

That hit a nerve, and I got a spine-chilling sensation.

Originally, unless one undergoes special training such as that undertaken by Plutonian priests, it’s hard to tolerate hell mana. Even those trained priests and most necromancers tend to lose their minds over time.

“Special training? What’s the method?”

Plutonian priests, from a young age, familiarize themselves with hell mana by consuming all sorts of things—poisonous herbs, toxic insects, and the like. They effectively turn their bodies into insect jars.

The Skeleton Knight explained what he called the sorcery of the insect jar.

When you put various venomous insects in a jar, they fight and eat each other until only the strongest one remains—a formidable source of toxin and curse.

This is akin to how Plutonian acolytes turn their bodies into a giant toxic creature from a young age.

I thought of how, from a young age, they consume insects and toxic herbs to build resistance, which seemed horrifying and barbaric.

But when I considered it carefully, it wasn’t too different from how I was raised.

My father would always claim I was “immune to a hundred poisons” and regularly applied bee stings all over my body.

Though I couldn’t count the number of bugs I’ve eaten over the years, the memory made me feel utterly repulsed.

—

When we climbed out of the valley, the sun had already begun to set, casting a yellowish glow across the sky.

Considering it was still summer with longer days, it must have been around 7 PM or so.

As I thought about going back home and having dinner with Luna, I saw her familiar pink hair waving at me from the North Gate of Sodomora in the distance.

“Hassan, over here!”

Luna had come to greet me. Though I was exhausted from the day’s training, seeing her face somehow made me feel better.

“Hassan, you were at the valley again, weren’t you? I told you it’s dangerous.”

“But danger leads to achievements.”

“Hmm…”

Hippolyte didn’t like me going to the northern valley, and neither did Luna, apparently.

Thinking about our positions reversed, if I were her, I’d probably feel the same. If a soft, gentle girl like Luna ventured into a dangerous place to gather herbs, I’d worry a lot.

“Hassan, you must be so tired! Let me cook dinner tonight! Let’s eat together.”

At this single sentence from Luna, I suddenly perked up.

Had I ever seen Luna cook? No, it didn’t seem like it.

With someone offering to cook for me, and it being something that hasn’t happened in a very long time, I momentarily forgot my exhaustion.

So we hurried back to Luna’s cabin.

「A Little Nighttime Salad of Affection (and Some Strange Tastes).」

「Consuming this may temporarily boost stamina stats.」

“How does it taste? Do you like it?”

From this one dish, I realized Luna wasn’t much of a cook.

The salad, consisting of mismatched vegetables, herbs, and oddly burnt meat, was certainly not pleasant.

To be honest, it didn’t taste good at all.

However, she seemed to have put a lot of effort into it, and she was clearly expecting some reaction from me.

What should I say in this situation?

Should I tell the truth and say it’s bad?

Or should I lie and say it’s good?

As I pondered, a memory suddenly surfaced, as if a submarine had surfaced from the depths of my mind.

There was a time when I had faced this same dilemma before.

If not for my mom or younger sister, it wasn’t the first time I had been treated to cooking from another woman.

When I’d been enslaved for a few weeks, right?

Hey, arsonist, want to try this? I just made it.

Once, Elpride offered me what she called a pancake. It was more like a large, flat crêpe.

Clearly burned black and emitting an acrid odor, it initially felt like some new form of torture.

Do you folks in Samaria eat this kind of stuff? It’s an Albrheim-style pancake.

It wasn’t any good, though.

The bitter taste of burnt food and excessive saltiness hit my tongue. It could’ve been alright with some sugar, but it seemed salt was added instead.

Do elves like this?

I was worried that if I said it wasn’t good, Elpride might feel offended and lecture me.

Should I just close my eyes and say it’s good?

If I say it’s good, then, well… she might make it every day.

d*mn, do I really need to eat this awful thing every day?

Hell would be preferable to enduring this.

The idea of eating this monstrosity daily was simply unbearable.

Despite being a slave, I had the natural born right to reject such food.

John No taste.

What, this guy? That’s an insult…!

Hiieeeek!

Thinking back, it seems Elpride had started giving me a small allowance for food after that day. That’s how I managed to save up to 30 silver coins eventually.

Had I said it was good that day, I would have been stuck eating that terrible food, never saving up to 30 silver, and thus remaining under Elpride’s control.

That could have been pretty terrible.

Naturally, this memory came to mind right then and there.

“How’s it taste? If you like it, I’ll keep making it for you! I wanted to contribute since Hassan trains so hard. I read that everything good for the body should go in, so how’s it? Oh, that’s a sand boa. It’s supposed to be good for men!”

“…Indeed, that must be it. I feel the good vibes for my body.”

Sweating after washing myself away and feeling lethargically tired from the training, I suddenly felt invigorated again. Most notably, an unforeseen effect caused the unexpected erection, which left me quite flustered.

Talk about potent sand boa meat!

Strangely, thanks to some of the food’s effects, my stamina stat temporarily increased by 3, boosting me to 11 points. This unexpected energy boost left me even more awkward.

How am I supposed to sleep tonight?

As I pondered this, brushing the empty bowls aside, Luna suddenly straddled me.

[Author’s Note]

Joijang! orz055055! Sevenling! LaPacrekis! PervertNumbeOne! Lyanan! Kadeom! PotatoServer! And our King Supporter, IHwanI! Thank you so much for the support coupons…

Sending a swarm of gratitude bees to those who send original royalty coupons, and of course, those who leave comments and recommendations!

If you suddenly see a shadow in the sunlight, think of it as a swarm of gratitude bees landing on you…

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